Amelia took the window seat at the coffee shop and watched the tourists enter and exit the bike rental shop. It wasn’t the routes taken that interested her. (She had ridden and walked every possible route in the area.)
It was listening to the stories afterward, the journey taken and destinations still to go. Some of the storytellers were sketchers, others ramblers, and some, successful suspense spinners. She didn’t admit to jotting down possible vacation ideas on napkins later pocketed then shared with her children.
Some days, her eldest enjoyed looking through the guestbook on the counter of the bike shop and hearing bits of trivia from the owner. Her youngest asked if there was anything she could keep. One summer, in her neatest penmanship of crayon on paper, her youngest wrote a request: “Pleaz send me a postcard when you get home. Thank you.”
Amelia didn’t know what to make of that idea at first. On the one hand, she prepared for disappointment and the need for comforting. On the other, would strangers send cards *to* a place they visited versus from?